The rooftop had become their sanctuary.
It wasn't just a place anymore—it was the place. A quiet, wind-brushed space above the noise of classrooms and crowded hallways, where three lives, cracked in their own ways, had begun to fit together.
Hana sat cross-legged on the concrete, her sketchpad resting on her lap. Her pencil moved in slow, deliberate strokes, capturing the way sunlight filtered through the rooftop fence and shimmered faintly off Popcorn's white fur. The kitten lay curled beside her, tiny chest rising and falling with soft, sleepy breaths.
Ren leaned against the railing, hands in his pockets, watching clouds drift past with half-lidded eyes. Naoki lay sprawled on his back with an arm covering his face, humming a random tune between bites of a half-eaten sweet bun.
"Popcorn's living better than any of us," Ren said eventually, breaking the silence.
Naoki peeked from under his arm, grinning. "She doesn't have midterms."
Hana's lips curled into a faint smile. "She also doesn't have to deal with morning roll calls."
"I think I wanna be a cat in my next life," Naoki declared. "Sleep all day, get spoiled, attack toes for no reason."
Ren laughed. "You already do two of those."
Naoki sat up and gave him a mock glare. "Which two?"
"Guess."
As Naoki dramatically gasped and pretended to look offended, Hana watched them from the corner of her eye, quiet warmth rising in her chest. It had been weeks since that first encounter—the day Ren stepped in and saved her—and somehow, since then, things had started to feel… safer.
Still broken, maybe. Still quiet and unsure. But safer.
"Naoki," she said suddenly, voice soft.
He turned to her. "Hm?"
"You said your mom likes detective novels, right?"
His eyes flickered, just a little. "Yeah. She used to read them to me when I was little."
"I drew this," Hana murmured, flipping her sketchpad and holding it up. It was a drawing of a woman in a hospital bed, smiling gently, surrounded by stacks of books with titles like The Silent Witness and Case Closed Café. On the window sat a little cat with big eyes.
Naoki stared at it for a long moment. His smile faltered, lips parting.
"I… that's…" He cleared his throat, blinking rapidly. "Thanks."
Hana looked down, embarrassed. "I just thought… maybe you could show it to her."
"I will," Naoki said quietly. "She'll love it."
Ren nudged Naoki with his foot. "She's got talent, huh?"
"She's a damn magician with that pencil."
"Guys…" Hana whispered, red dusting her cheeks.
Ren smiled at her, something in his gaze softening. "You should draw more for yourself too, you know."
"I do," she said quietly. "It's how I breathe."
Naoki leaned back again, letting the sky take his attention. "We're all broken artists, huh?"
A gust of wind blew through. Popcorn stirred, mewing sleepily before curling back into Hana's lap.
—
Later that evening, as dusk fell over the town, Hana sat on a bench by the train station, waiting for her ride. She had stayed a little later than usual, too absorbed in a sketch to notice time slipping away.
She clutched her bag to her chest, the sketchpad safely tucked inside. The streetlights flickered to life, one by one, painting the sidewalk in orange halos.
"Cold out tonight," a voice said.
She looked up. Ren stood a few steps away, his jacket zipped up, a cup of hot cocoa in each hand.
He walked over and offered her one. "Didn't want you freezing."
"Thanks," she said, fingers wrapping around the warm cup gratefully.
He sat beside her, silence settling between them. Comfortable.
"Sorry for not leaving with you earlier," Hana said after a moment. "I got caught up."
Ren glanced at her, something fond and unreadable in his eyes. "It's okay. You looked like you were in your own world. I didn't wanna disturb that."
She smiled softly. "It's easier to draw when it's quiet."
"You like quiet things?"
"Yeah. Quiet places. Quiet people." Her gaze flicked to him. "People who don't push."
Ren tilted his head. "Is that what I am? A quiet person?"
"You're… not loud. Even when you talk, it feels like silence."
"That a compliment?"
She chuckled. "I think so."
They sipped their cocoa. The sound of a distant train rumbled on the tracks.
"I'm glad you found us, Hana," Ren said suddenly.
She turned to him. "What do you mean?"
"I mean… that day, when I saw those idiots messing with you—I don't know why, but I felt like I had to do something. Not just 'cause it was the right thing. But because…" He hesitated. "Because I knew you'd get it."
"Get what?"
He smiled faintly. "What it's like to carry quiet pain."
She didn't say anything. Didn't have to. Her silence was answer enough.
The train screeched into view. Hana stood, clutching her cup.
"I'll see you tomorrow," she said.
He nodded.
She paused before stepping onto the train. "Ren?"
"Yeah?"
She looked away, cheeks pink. "Thanks for noticing me."
He watched her leave with a small, lopsided smile.
—
Across town, Naoki sat at his mother's bedside again.
Her breathing was steadier today. The nurse had said she was responding better to the medication, that the flare-up was stabilizing.
Still, the IV drip, the machines, the antiseptic smell—it all felt like a quiet war being fought behind thin white curtains.
Naoki held her hand gently, talking about the most meaningless things just to fill the room with something other than the beep of machines.
"I think Popcorn's taken a liking to Hana," he said. "She climbed onto her lap and refused to move. Bet she thinks Hana's warmer than me."
His mom smiled faintly. "She sounds sweet."
"She is," he said. "So is Ren. I mean, he's a dumbass sometimes, but he sees people."
Sora Akiyama squeezed his hand weakly. "And you? Who sees you?"
Naoki looked away, eyes stinging. "I… don't know."
She brushed her fingers across his knuckles. "You should let people in, Naoki."
He forced a smile. "I'm fine."
She gave him a look—the one that mothers give when they know too much. "You're a terrible liar, baby."
He laughed quietly. "Guess I need practice."
"You need rest. And love. And something that's just yours."
He nodded, eyes settling on the sketch Hana had given him, now pinned above the bed.
"I think I'm finding those things," he murmured.
—
The next day was cold again, but the rooftop felt warm in the afternoon sun.
Popcorn darted between feet, chasing a crumpled candy wrapper Naoki tossed across the concrete. Hana laughed as the kitten skidded and missed.
Ren was lying down, arms behind his head, watching clouds like they held the answers to everything.
"I've been thinking," Naoki said suddenly.
Everyone looked at him.
"What if we built a cat house here? For Popcorn. Like, something warm for when we're not around."
"I could draw up a design," Hana offered.
"I'll bring wood from the café's storage," Ren said. "We've got scraps."
Naoki grinned. "Then it's settled. Operation Popcorn Palace begins tomorrow."
As laughter filled the air, Hana glanced at Ren. He caught her look and tilted his head in question.
She shook her head, smiling.
She didn't need to explain.
Something was blooming—gently, shyly, between glances and shared silences.
A quiet understanding.
Unspoken things.
But understood, nonetheless.
——————